Squadron

Peator picks up the pace as he makes his way across the hangar bay to the squadron of small spacecraft making up the station's security fleet. His craft, a Quill named ZeaDar (LightDart) is berthed next to Worwynd's finDuj, a sleek craft, similar in shape to a manta ray. Starfleet had transported their ships earlier to the station, freeing them to travel as an honour guard with Numbers on the shuttle, it is good to see it arrived safely. The Quill, sensing Peator approaching, wakes and shivers slightly, the plumage needles of its outer armour clattering together, part welcome, part warning. Peator places a hand against the Quill and it calms, waiting for its next command.

Worwynd shakes her head, there is something more than a little unnerving about the Mistral's ship. 'I wondered if you were going to make it for the security drill.'

'I had an errand to run. But I am here now.' Peator grins at Worwynd, picking up her nervousness around the Quill. 'Don't worry, it doesn't bite. Sting, yes, bite no!'

Worwynd watches as Peator is absorbed by his ship, she can think of no other way to describe it. Then she climbs aboard the finDuj, preferring the absolute certainty of Klingon engineering, 'Toj! He can keep his Mistral tricks, fast engines and photon torpedoes are better, nuH toj weh.'

Across the hangar bay a siren sounds and the first of the squadron spacecraft glide out to start formation training. ZeaDar skitters across the floor, almost skipping out into the blank canvas of space beyond as the finDuj follows, a dark shadow to the bright glittering armour of the Quill.

Worwynd and Peator practise formation drills with the squad for the next few hours, both glad to be free from the earlier formality of the day. As part of the security fleet, they would patrol and help defend the station, a perfect cover for their role as bodyguards for the young Borg.

Back on the Sentinel, Swayla glances at the time. The Commander should be on the bridge by now. Where was he? She drums her fingers nervously on the handrail in front of her. She is standing just behind the helm, waiting for him to arrive, the rest of the bridge crew trying hard not to notice her obvious agitation. Her scheduling had been very clear, after the welcoming of the shuttle crew it would be the flypast of the new security squadron and then the first full drill of the station resolve. Swayla had arranged for footage from the flypast and the bridge to be broadcast live across the station and Federation networks but it is looking like the Commander might miss it!

The interlift doors open and Commander Pierce steps onto the bridge, adjusting his uniform and running a hand over his grey hair. He almost jumps in surprise as the Bridge crew stand to attention and Swayla formally announces, 'Commander on the Bridge!' but regains his composure as he notices the film crew. He takes his seat a the helm and watches as the forward screen expands across the deck to fill the bridge with a view of the wormhole and the near space around Sentinel.

As they watch, the security fleet forms into a tight diamond pattern and sweeps across the screen, then circles and returns, this time with a barrel roll before scattering out into the distance.

'Shall I announce the Resolve, Commander?' Swayla whispers, aware of the slightly awkward pause in proceedings. It is clear the Commander has not read the schedule for the afternoon's events.

'Of course, Swayla, resolve away!' Pierce crosses his fingers hoping engineering is ready after the power spikes.

Swayla's smile is a sour as a lemon at the Commander's informal tone, had he no respect for the inaugural resolve of the space station, not to mention the billions of viewers watching around the Federation? She raises a hand and signals to the helm to send the signal to engineering and to every satellite hub to begin the resolve. Almost imperceptibly, the satellite hubs all begin to draw in closer to the central turbine in a precise ballet dictated by trajectory and speed. Then they interlock to form one giant sphere around the central core, protecting it and transforming the space station into a solid, planet-like structure, a floating fortress in space and if need be, able to move as a single ship, powered by the core, with the bridge in command of all the component hubs.

As the space station resolves into a sphere, the squadron sweeps back into view, performing a complicated, weaving flight close around the equator of Sentinel. This bravura performance of flying elicits a cheer through the station and Pierce smiles at Swayla who nods in acknowledgement of the successful manoeuvres while they both inwardly sigh with relief it all went to plan.

The squadron break free again and fly towards the wormhole, before turning for one last barrel roll past the bridge and then back to the hangar bay. As they reach the turn point, proximity alarms start ringing as the wormhole winks and begins to expand. Something unscheduled is coming through and, judging by the scale of it, whatever it is is gargantuan, the squadron have barely no time to move as the space in front of them begins to ripple and bend.

'Abort turn! Abort turn!'

It is the last thing everyone on the Bridge, the station and the Federation audience hears from the squadron as the wormhole opens directly onto their flight path.